Once upon no blind date
by Lilithakaducky
Summary: Hermione let herself fall in a chair at the boy's table and clawed a folded piece of paper from her pocket. “Here, this should be enough to assure that Malfoy won’t try again to play Snape off against anyone... The trio want to play a prank, but things go
1. Default Chapter

_Disclaimer: Not mine. Never was, never will and that's good so too. JKR knows much better how to handle her characters, than I ever could:)_

This is the translation of my participation of Angels1291's last challenge on www.severussnape.de.vu, a German Snape-fic page. The topic was a blind date and the centre of the fic should, obviously, be Severus Snape. Things needed to be, or be mentioned in the fic: A want-ad, the three broomsticks, Fire-whisky, Syrup, Remus Lupin, Minerva McGonagall, love letters, three candidates, a heart attack and a hang over or a tomcat. (In German they are both called the same: Kater) Other than that we were free to let our imagination run free. In the end there were six fics and I gotta tell you, they are all very differential.

Special thanks to XiaoGui for her help and to Lucidity for her wonderful job as a Betareader.

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**Once upon...no blind date**

Every place filled with lots of different people had the tendency to hold potential for conflicts, especially if the majority of said people were teenagers. Hogwarts, school for magic and wizardry was no exception to that. Neither was it unheard of a teacher abusing his power and tormenting his students.

There was only one thing that Harry Potter, in his capacity as half-grown wizard and 'the boy who lived' was certain of: no other school had such a repulsing and unpleasant teacher as his Potions Professor.

Severus Snape, the greasy haired, hook-nosed, scarecrow-like tyrant made a true art out of tormenting his students.

With clenched yaw and barely held back fury, Harry let the latest tirade of ugly insults wash over him, while Snape was looming over him like an overgrown vulture, commenting his potion.

"My, my Potter," the older wizard purred full of malice. "No wonder you gained your _celebrity_," he spat the word, as if it were something especially vile, "as a baby. Your decidedly demented mental faculties were still so retarded back then, your obvious stupidity couldn't get in the way of your actions."

Malfoy chuckled loudly somewhere to Harry's left.

Just as expected, Snape didn't reprimand him. He only seemed to get smugger by the minute, while he continued. "Perhaps Lockhart should have hexed away your brain, instead of your bone. Then maybe you could achieve more."

This time Malfoy laughed openly and the other Slytherins cackled evilly and gleefully.

Snape himself stalked to the front of the room to his desk, then spun around dramatically. "Failed, and five points from Gryffindor, for both of you, Mister Potter and Mister Weasley."

Harry heard his classmate, who had been working with him on the potion, swallow audibly, but they had both learned in the last years, not to contradict Snape.

"I can't believe him. Professor Snape basically watched Malfoy throw the Bertie Bott's bean in your cauldron," Hermione said waspishlyLH2 , while she walked with them from the dungeon towards the Great Hall, pressing her school books against her chest with a vehemence that betrayed her indignation.

"As if _that_ had ever stopped Snape," Ron growled.

"Exactly," Harry agreed with disgust. "Malfoy is such a miserable toady and Snape seems to enjoy it too."

"One greasy git goes well with the other," Ron railed through clenched teeth. "We should cook their gooses once and for all."

"Professor Snape is a teacher and a member of the Order," Hermione protested.

Ron murmured something intelligible but the words 'questionable' and 'useless' seemed to be among whatever he said.

"We won't need to attack Snape openly, you know," said Harry. "If only we'd manage to disgrace mighty Malfoy in Snape's eyes for once..."

"Exactly," Ron interrupted. "So that he can't use Snape against us so easily."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That will prove easy, like child's play, of course. Why don't you simply tell him that Malfoy is an unfair, mean git? I'm sure that will impress him."

"I never said that it would be easy," Ron sulked.

However – inside Harry's head the wheels had already started turning.

Astonishingly enough, it was Hermione who came upon them about a week later with an idea.

She stormed into the common room full of excitement, waving a newspaper like a trophy high above her head.

"Boys, I've got it!"

"Got what?" asked Ron and looked up from his history of magic assignment. He seemed happier about the distraction from his homework, rather than being truly interested in any of Hermione's new ideas.

"What have you got there," Harry asked with hardly more enthusiasm.

"This here." And with those words, Hermione shoved the paper between them onto the table.

"You've got the Quibbler?" Ron asked wide-eyed.

"Ahem, Hermione," Harry said carefully. "We know the Quibbler, but we thought that you weren't very interested in its content."

"Yep, not serious enough," Ron said.

Hermione sighed theatrically. "It's not the Quibbler itself that interests me, but while I was flipping through it yesterday..." She gifted Ron, who smugly grinned at her, with a scathing glare. "Luna has let it lay around and I was bored, okay? Anyway." She turned demonstratingly away from Ron and faced Harry, opening the magazine, where she had stuck a finger between two pages and pushed it under his nose. Ron, curious at last, straightened and craned his neck to catch a glimpse at what Hermione indicated.

"This is the page with the want-ads," Harry stated somewhat confused.

"Exactly," Hermione nodded, as if that all were the only needed explanation.

"I don't quite understand, Hermione," Harry said with a frown.

"You did say that you wanted to impair Malfoy's influence over Professor Snape, did you not?"

That seemed to immediately guarantee the unwavering interest of her two friends. Harry at least instantly became attentive. "Don't tell us you've found a way?"

Hermione nodded.

"But what does a job-ad have to do with it?" asked Harry, while he observed with amusement the drawn picture of a wizard, who, true to wizard pictures, waved with a miniature wand to control a vicious looking drawn dragon.

"It's not about the job advertisements. Look here," Hermione said and pointed at a few smaller sections on the lower right side of the page.

"Erotic want-ads?" Ron asked confused.

"Yes."

Harry and Ron exchanged a confused look. Hermione sighed again at their obvious lack of comprehension. She let herself fall in another chair at their table and clawed a folded piece of paper from her pocket. "Here, this should be enough to assure Malfoy won't try again to play Snape off against anyone."

Harry and Ron read the short note.

_Good-looking, successful and homoerotic experienced businessman searches for the sexual alternation. You should be male, not over forty years old, slender, dark-haired and sexually open minded. I am blond, well built, in my early forties, exceedingly cultivated and sexually unrestrained. Toys and role-playing are very welcome. _

_L. M._

For one minute it was deadly silent, and then Harry and Ron burst out with roaring laughter.

"Draco can't be certain if it really was his father who wrote this, but he will have his doubts," Hermione said. "However, he'll hardly ask him about it. And then, he will ask himself, where his father had acquired that experience, if the want-ad was really written by him – and judging from the described preferences..."

"He will think that Snape..."

Hermione nodded "After all, the two of them apparently did attend Hogwarts together for some time and know each other well."

Ron laughed again. "This is brilliant Hermione. I am honestly impressed that you want to pull something like this off."

Hermione frowned quizzically and Harry continued for Ron, guessing his thoughts. "Ron does have a point, you know. I mean, I don't think other people will draw the same conclusions, if ever they even read such balderdash, but what about Snape? He would, were he to see it and I take any bet that he would want to get some answers..."

"He won't," Hermione said with a determined shake of her head. "We can't put a real want-ad in the magazine; only alter one that's already there. Neither Professor Snape nor anyone else will ever know of it. The Professor will be done no harm, since Malfoy will hardly go brag about it. But Malfoy on the other hand will surely cease to see his head of house in the same good light ever again."

Again, silence descended upon them for a minute before it was broken by Ron's almost reverent whisper. "You know Harry, sometimes she really scares me. So much like Fred and George..."

Finding Malfoy was not really difficult. They shared some classes with the Slytherins, after all. The harder part was to catch Malfoy alone, since he was shadowed almost constantly by those brainless brutes Crabbe and Goyle or some other thug. But even that proved to be less impossible than Harry had initially thought, thanks to a certain bewitched map.

Hidden under his invisibly cloak, Harry and his friends waited in an alcove, deep down in the dungeons, only a few steps away from the potions classroom and on the way to the Slytherin's common room. Nervous as a kneazle in a room full of rocking chairs, they observed how the tiny dots labelled with the name of Draco Malfoy, moved towards their direction. They had observed how the Slytherin had left the Great Hall with Cassiopeia Berrett, a pretty looking Ravenclaw fourth year.

His self-complacent composure and her rapturous glances she sent his way, while she was practically clinging to his arm, made clear what they both had in mind to do, and it was obvious that Malfoy wouldn't want to have his usual male companions with him this time.

The click-clack of his steps approached steadily and Harry hastily put the map away and glanced at the magazine that lay, hardly distinguishable, on the half-dark side of the corridor.

And then, when Malfoy came into view, without the girl but with an expression even smugger than earlier, a well placed 'notice-me' spell from Hermione on the altered want-ad drew Malfoy's glance into said corner just at the right time. With a frown, the blond teenager reached for the magazine and picked it up. When he recognised what kind of paper it was, his face morphed into a disgusted grimace.

However, even though he seemed even less enthusiastic than Hermione about it, her subtle spell made him leaf through it and stay stuck at the want-ads. For him, it would seem as if he'd noticed something from the corner of his eye, which had raised his curiosity. Interested, he began to read the ad. Harry and his friends observed how all colour gradually left Malfoy's face and his yaw dropped. His mouth moved as if he wanted to say something but any sound stayed locked in his lungs.

Harry heard how Ron did his best to suppress a chuckle and he was aware of the grin that played around his own mouth.

Malfoy was obviously more than shocked and Harry observed with satisfaction how his expression alternated between shame, anger and disbelief.

As usual, Hermione's plan seemed to be perfect. Everything worked according to plan and they seemed to have reached their goal...

Until a deep, cutting voice thwarted all their hopes.

"May I know what you are doing outside of the dormitories after curfew, Mister Malfoy?"

Like a dark cloud of black cloak, Snape suddenly stood in the corridor, barely three metres from them and Malfoy down the hall.

Hermione inhaled sharply, but caught herself fast enough to silence any traitorous noise. But she wasn't the only one shocked.

Snape shouldn't be here.

Harry tried to calm his suddenly wild beating heart. Snape wouldn't take the magazine from Malfoy, would he? Draco was his golden Slytherin after all. And even if he did take it, it wasn't certain that Hermione's spell would work on him too.

Like in a dream, Harry watched Malfoy's face morph into a hateful grimace, while he glared with loathing at Snape.

"I was just about to return there, _Sir_." He practically hissed the 'Sir'.

Snape arched one eyebrow and held out his hand. "May I see what you have there in your hand, Mister Malfoy?"

'Don't give it to him. Please don't,' Harry begged inwardly.

Draco's expression darkened even more and he threw the paper forcefully at Snape's feet. "What have you done with my father? And you'd better not deny it. I always asked myself why he held you in such high regard. He never defends anyone else so vehemently."

"Malfoy," Snape warned with a soft, dangerous voice. "Do not mistake yourself to be in a position where I will let you get away with everything." All the same he bent down and picked the Quibbler off the floor. As if some deity took a perverse pleasure in mocking them, Snape opened the newspaper precisely at the page with the want-ads. His eyes flew over the page and stayed glued to the bottom right corner - exactly on their false ad. His reaction was by far more controlled than Malfoy's but his eyes too widened at first, before his mouth grew into a small, grim line and his eyes became hard.

"Come with me to my office, Malfoy," he said calmly and turned around. When Malfoy hesitated, he threw the teenager a scathing glance over his shoulder. "Right now!"

His new tone of voice would without a doubt have frozen the great lake, and not even Malfoy was immune to it. Still glaring, but almost robot-like, Malfoy stalked into the class room in front of his head of house. Snape followed him and closed the door behind them.

"Oh no," Hermione whined." What are we going to do now? He should never have seen it."

"Calm down, Hermione," Harry tried to calm her, while musing over the possible consequences of their prank.

"He can't really do anything, right?" Ron asked, panicked. "The most he can do is to ask Malfoy senior if the want-ad was genuine, but he can't find out who did it, now can he?"

Harry looked questionably to Hermione, who was deep in thought herself. "He will certainly explain to Draco that nothing ever went on between him and Draco's father. The spell could have been cast by any sixth or seventh year. However, I don't believe that he will talk to Malfoy senior about it. It's not something pure-bloods talk about. But even if he does... In the worst case scenario it was all for nothing, and in the best, a small seed of mistrust towards Snape will remain in Draco."

"Ssh," Ron hissed suddenly as the door to Snape's classroom opened again and he stepped out with Malfoy.

All anger was gone from Malfoy's face and he smirked self-righteously at his head of house. "Thank you, sir, for not reporting me for being out after curfew."

Snape nodded brusquely. "You are familiar with the rules, Mister Malfoy. While I don't condemn occasional excursions and unfair methods of yours, I expect them to help, or at least not harm your house. Should you ever lose any points because of your nightly fits of adolescent romances, you will have to answer to me, understood?"

Malfoy's grin widened even more. "Understood, sir. I will be careful. And perhaps I can even manage to make Cassiopeia lose some house points. I know, it's not as good as Gryffindor, but I'd rather die than try to socialize with one of those."

Snape nodded and the beginning of a smirk tugged at his lips. "That, I would never ask of you. But now get going before anyone else sees you."

Malfoy turned around and hurried down the hallway, towards the Slytherin common room. As soon as he was out of sight, the smirk upon Snape's face died and with a furious expression he disappeared into his office, slamming the door behind himself.

"I can't believe it, " Hermione whispered. "He Obilivated Malfoy. "

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T.B.C.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

The shock that Snape would simply play around with a student's memory was not sitting well, especially with Hermione, but even for Ron and Harry it was hard to comprehend. Albeit Snape was a miserable git, he still was a professor. No professor should abuse his power over a student like that. And then of course, it begged the question why Snape had not simply explained things to Draco. Was he so dependant upon Malfoy's good will, or was there something he was trying to hide?

But since the younger Malfoy had apparently lost all his memories concerning the false want ad, the unspoken fear that any student could become a victim – or, for all they knew, might have _already_ become one, without, of course, being able to remember the incident – suddenly took on alarming substance.

As big as that shock had been, it was soon dwarfed by something even more unbelievable.

Even though Hermione didn't think much of the, admittedly highly questionable, journalistic reliability of the _Quibbler_, she indulged in such literature off and on. Recently, more frequently than before. Whether this was due to her closer acquaintance with Luna Lovegood or had something to do with their unsuccessful prank, Harry wasn't sure. Whatever the reason, one late morning a few weeks after the incident she entered the almost deserted Great Hall in a state of considerable agitation, the latest edition of the _Quibbler _in her hands.

Without a word, she sat down at the table next to Harry and Ron, shoved the opened magazine under their noses, and pointed to one of the new ads.

Harry at first couldn't believe what he read there:

_Hello L.M._

_I would be interested in meeting you for an erotic adventure. I am in my late thirties, slim, and meet your requirements in every way. Like you, I have a bent towards the male gender. And also like you, I am not at all opposed to role play or other erotic exploration, including an open mind regarding bondage. Regrettably, meeting at my home is not possible at the moment, but I eagerly await your suggestions should you be interested in arranging a date. _

S 

"Someone actually answered our ad," Ron gulped incredulously.

"Snape," Harry answered tonelessly.

Ron's eyes widened at first, and then the realization seemed to hit him as well. "No one else could possibly know…"

"Snape must have made the connection between Lucius Malfoy and the personal ad. Whatever else he is, he isn't stupid," said Harry.

"And he wouldn't have Obliviated Malfoy Junior either, if he hadn't guessed..." Ron said.

"Perhaps he just wants to find out if it really _is_ Malfoy," Hermione guessed.

"Or else…" Ron suddenly stopped and looked like he was going to be sick. In any case, he certainly managed to capture Hermione and Harry's attention.

"Or else _what_?" asked Harry.

"Or else our advertisement hit the bull's-eye, and Snape thinks that this is really Malfoy's idea of fun."

That left them all dumbstruck for a while.

"You can't actually believe that Snape would think him capable of something like that?" said Hermione.

Ron shrugged his shoulders. "They are Slytherins. They live for that sort of insidious games."

Harry didn't know which impulse to follow first. Laughter or disbelief. "You can't be serious. Snape and Malfoy queer?"

"Harry Potter," Hermione admonished him with half-hearted indignation. "There is nothing wrong with homosexuality."

"There is in the wizarding world," whispered Ron. "That's just disgusting." He shuddered exaggeratedly.

Harry gave Hermione an apologising shrug and ignored Ron. In the years living in the wizarding world, he had gotten used to their old-fashioned points of view, and it was exactly this which made the thought of the pure-blood-loving and pro-Voldemort Slytherins together in bed so ridiculous. "I have nothing against gay people, Hermione. But we are talking about Malfoy Senior and _Snape _here. Snape having sex with anybody..." Now it was Harry's turn to shudder. Imaging Snape shagging in wild passion was worse than picturing Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon while creating Dudley. Snape was mean, ugly, thin, greasy and all in all just… asexual.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

They all awaited the next edition of the _Quibbler_ with utmost impatience. The waiting was even effectively distracting them from Umbridge and her worsening attitude.

And indeed, in the next issue they found even more than one reaction to Snape's advertisement.

In fact, there were three interested parties.

_Hello, stranger. I've read your want ad. If this L.M. should not be interested in a date, then we can always meet at my place._

_With most tender regards,_

_K._

which was written in a first want-ad, just above another one of a 'lusty, permissive eighty-year-old witch'.

Right to the left was another response to Snape's want ad…

_Dear S._

_I have read your answer to this L.M. and wanted to ask you if you might also be into games with animals or enlargement-charms and potions._

_R._

However, they found what interested them at the lowest bottom of the page:

_Hello S._

Do we know each other or are you a seer to know my preferences that well? I'd be most interested to meet with you. However, you need to be at least passable in the art of potions making to hold my interest. I suggest a public place. Do you know the 'Three Broomsticks' in Hogsmeade in Scotland? You can certainly find out where it is and Apparate there. Our first meeting will take place under the following circumstances: We'll meet Wednesday at nine in the evening. I'll take a seat next to you, and we will talk. If we find each other's company agreeable, we'll retreat to my rented room, where I will watch you brew the lube before we let our imaginations take the lead.

_Sincerely_

_L_

"This is getting crazier by the minute. Malfoy will surely not let himself been seen in public on a date with a _guy_. And neither will Snape," Ron whispered.

Hermione thought about it for a moment. "They could always put an illusion spell over themselves, if they fear being recognized, despite the fact that this page of the _Quibbler_ will hardly hold the interest of many readers. And those who do read it might well be interested in other offers or at least aren't familiar with Professor Snape."

"I have to see that," Harry said with conviction.

"We are not allowed to leave the common room that late, not to mention go to Hogsmeade," Hermione reasoned.

"Oh, that problem is easily solved, Hermione. In case you've forgotten, Harry has an Invisibility Cloak and we know of a certain secret passage." Ron, who seemed to like the idea of catching Snape in a compromising position more and more, grinned.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Ron looked decidedly pleased as they moved through the narrow, hidden passage leading to Hogsmeade. Truth be told, he had been this way several times over the last few days already, and he was not alone in that. Hermione seemed to be the only one of them who hadn't been completely thrown off track and distracted, at least partially, from their other problems by the idea of a gay Snape.

"Perhaps we'll get to see Snape snogging with one of the candidates, or even with Malfoy," Harry whispered chirpily. He looked over at Ron and as if on cue, both grimaced and made retching sounds before they burst out laughing.

"That's not funny," Hermione protested, but even _her_ face contradicted her words. Imagining Snape kissing anyone was too absurd, after all.

"Hmm," Ron said slowly, while his face grew into a thoughtful mask.

"What is it now?" Hermione asked annoyed.

Ron did his best to stay serious, while he said, with badly simulated thoughtfulness: "Do you recall the want-ad with the lusty, permissive eighty-year-old witch?"

"And?" Hermione grunted, only halfway interested.

"Perhaps it was put there by McGonagall..."

Harry almost choked on his fit of laughter, although Hermione's expression became even angrier. "You are acting like a little kid, Ron Weasley."

Ron ignored her.

"And the other two candidates for Snape's want ad?" Harry asked merrily.

Hermione threw up her arms and elbowed her way past the boys to lead the way, but Ron was thinking hard for a moment. "Hmm. The guy with the animals did sign with R, right?"

"If you are going to say Rubeus Hagrid now, I swear I will smack you, Ron," Harry warned half-heartedly.

"I was rather thinking along the lines of Remus Lupin," Ron grinned, followed by a theatrical "Ouch," as Harry boxed him in his side without being able to chase his _own _stupid grin from his face.

"Quit your childish antics now. We're here," Hermione said over her shoulder

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

My biggest thanks to XiaoGui for her help and restless support, to Lucidity for betaing and to Cecelle, who agreed to translate the other chapters and who already did part of this one. (The part in this chapter, which sounds so much better is hers. I'm sure you'll notice right away. Lol)


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

They decided to hide beneath one of the tables, as Harry had in his third year, making sure to choose one that allowed them a clear view of the entire pub. Fortunately, the _Three Broomsticks _was just about empty during the middle of the week. Only one corner table was occupied – an elderly, hump-backed wizard dressed in a shabby, old-fashioned robe sat clutching a glass of firewhisky as if it were his most cherished possession in the world. He seemed to be slightly inebriated already and kept up a constant, mumbling stream of conversion with the glass in front of him.

Madam Rosmerta, the proprietor of the _Three Broomsticks_, stood behind the bar counter polishing up a few glasses, casting occasional sideways glances that were half suspicion and half pity at her only customer.

Ron had first suspected that this was Snape in disguise, but Hermione and Harry had rejected that idea after quiet discussion. They were, after all, twenty minutes too early. And even if Snape had donned that sort of disguise, it was quite unimaginable that he would get stone-drunk like that – the old man was chugging down one firewhisky after another as if it were nothing but syrup.

Yet Ron stubbornly held on to his suspicion, telling them that he found that sort of behavior much less surprising than that Snape was queer. Additionally, a habitual hang-over as a result of regularly imbibing alcoholic beverages would go a long ways towards explaining Snape's usual sunny disposition. Which prompted Hermione to point out in a sharp whisper that as a Potions master, he was certainly more than capable of brewing a remedy for a hang-over.

It wasn't until she started reciting a list of possible potions, complete with recipes, that he stopped arguing with her.

Twenty minutes – and another bottle on the old man's table, served by Rosmerta with a stern reminder that this would be the last one – later, the old wizard was still the only customer in the pub.

"Snape is never late," whispered Harry.

"Maybe he decided not to come," Hermione answered uncertainly.

"Or maybe he's already sitting at the table, stone-drunk…"

Ron's whispered words were interrupted by the ringing of the door bell. Immediately, all their heads shot up as they looked expectantly towards the entrance.

A wizard in his early thirties, with thinning, mouse-brown hair, a pointy nose, and angular glasses entered the room and looked around nervously. His hands were clenching and unclenching convulsively in front of him in what seemed like a misguided attempt to strangulate the handkerchief he was holding.

"Hallo, young man," Madam Rosmerta greeted him in a friendly but determined voice.

The wizard seemed to get the hint, and with jerky movements took a seat at a table near the door. "A…a pumpkin juice, please," he said nervously while trying to sneak a peek at the old wizard with such determination to be furtive and stealthy that what he was doing was as obvious as the nose on his face.

In the next few minutes, the old wizard got steadily more drunk, while the young wizard got more nervous and edgy the longer he kept trying to peer at him.

At about a quarter past nine, just before Harry seriously considered asking the other two to abandon post and retreat, the front door opened again, and a tall figure hidden under a black, hooded cape entered the room.

The new arrival lifted his arms, pulled back the hood, and revealed his face,

It was Snape.

He had actually come, and now they had proof: Severus Snape, all-around evil git of Hogwarts, was a flaming queer. Harry grinned broadly yet again. At his table, the handkerchief strangler breathed a sigh of relief as he discovered Snape, and looked him up and down with obvious interest.

Well yes, Harry thought, if given the choice between the old drunkard and Snape, the latter obviously appeared to be the better alternative – even if only _slightly_ better.

Snape didn't acknowledge the man's open interest in him with anything other than a grim curl of the lip, and instead strode towards a table in a corner of the room, fairly close to where they were, and sat down. His furtive scan of the pub was a great deal more subtle than the young wizard's had been.

Madam Rosmerta approached him with a friendly smile.

"What a pleasant surprise to see you here, Professor Snape. May I bring you the usual?"

Snape gave a short nod and leaned back in his chair. His eyes seemed be glued to the opposite wall, but suddenly Harry was overcome with the feeling that he was being watched. He bit his lower lip. Snape couldn't somehow detect their presence here with Legilimency, could he?

"He is_ actually_ meeting here in public with Malfoy or anyone else interested," Ron whispered.

"So what? I doubt that they'll start wildly making out in here," answered Hermione, who was distracted trying to remove a strand of her hair that had caught on a splinter of the table leg without the Invisibility Cloak sliding off.

"Ugh, Hermione. Please. I think I'm going to barf."

Harry ignored the two, and watched as Rosmerta set down a firewhisky in front of Snape.

"Well, so much for the theory that Snape doesn't drink," he heard Ron mumble.

The younger wizard seemed to be getting more and more nervous, and finally gathered up his courage. With a shove that just about knocked over his glass of pumpkin juice, he got up and approached Snape's table.

"Excuse me."

Snape looked up at him disdainfully, one eyebrow lifted.

"Em, I don't mean to intrude, but could it be that you are the 'S' from the want-ad? I'm sure you have read my reply."

Harry held his breath in anticipation, and Hermione and Ron suddenly stiffened as well.

Snape seemed to rise as if in slow motion, until he, using his taller height to full advantage, loomed over the younger wizard. His face was motionless, but his eyes narrowed and glittered dangerously. "I suggest that you, sir, immediately walk out the door and never return," he hissed softly. He leaned forward slightly, and his voice grew even sharper. "And should you _ever _have to audacity to dare to talk to me or even just _approach_ me like this again, you may not be so lucky as to be given the opportunity to leave unharmed."

It was quite impossible to not take Snape's threat seriously. In any case, the young wizard took an immediate step back, and his eyes widened in terror before he whirled around, threw a few coins on the table, and hurried out of the door as fast as he could.

Harry looked back at Snape, but against his expectations, the man did not sit down again. He just picked up his drink, and downed it in a single gulp. Then, he took a few steps towards the entrance, but stopped in front of the door and turned to face the room.

Rosmerta looked at him with a furrowed brow. "Professor, what…"

"Shh." Snape held a finger to his lips.

Rosmerta stopped talking immediately and watched Snape, who with flaring nostrils and narrowed eyes was concentrating on the room.

It took Harry exactly one second longer than Hermione to arrive at the same conclusion regarding Snape's behavior. Before he could say anything, he heard her softly whisper under her breath, "He is searching for _us_."

"Shush," Ron hissed fearfully.

Snape's body tensed like a tiger about to pounce on its prey, and he seemed to listen into the sudden silence in the room. No one had to tell Harry and his friends that they needed to be quiet – fear had them firmly in its grip, and they barely dared to breathe. Snape knew that they were here, and like a hunter, he was coming after them.

Snape tilted his head ever so slightly to one side, and again Harry asked himself if he would be able to locate them using his Legilimency skills. And then Snape took a step away from the door. Exactly in their direction. Harry was still hoping that this was just a coincidence when Snape took a second step, and another, and with each step he seemed to get more confident, almost as if he could see them.

Finally, he stood in front of their table, and walked around it once. "You students did not think me stupid enough to fall for that counterfeit advertisement, did you? I _know_ that someone is here, and if you have even the _slightest_ interest in remaining at Hogwarts, you better show yourself immediately."

Harry and Ron both grabbed Hermione's arm at the same time as she made a sudden movement, but in the process Harry managed to bump the table leg with his elbow, and the whole table moved with a horrific creak.

A satisfied, exultant smile slowly crept over Snape's face, and he bent over to reach below the table.

Just at that moment a loud clash arose at the other side of the room, followed by a clatter, as if something heavy had fallen to the ground, and Snape whipped around, his wand at the ready.

The old humpback, gasping for breath, his hand pressed against his chest, lay between the tipped-over chair and the broken bottle of alcohol, the content of which was slowly seeping out in an ever-widening puddle.

Harry grabbed the unexpected chance, held on tighter to Hermione's arm, and pushed over their own table, directly against Snape.

With a curse on his lips, Snape caught the table at the last possible second before it would have landed on his toes. Ron and Hermione finally caught on to what Harry was doing, and together they ran for the back door as quickly as possible.

Hurried steps followed them immediately, accompanied by a stream of invectives from Snape until he was interrupted by Rosmerta's voice.

"Professor Snape, you have to help. He is having a heart attack."

The footsteps died down, and Snape seemed to stop indecisively for a moment.

"Please, Professor. You know what to do. He is going to die…"

Snape cursed out loud one more time, but then the steps faded away, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione finally reached the door, and with it, safety.

.-.-.-.-

"Blimey, that was too close," said Ron when they finally were back in the secret passage, his face still red from all the excitement.

"It was a trap. His answer and everything. He knew right from the start that the want-ad was a fake," Hermione added.

"Do you think that he talked to Malfoy?" asked Ron.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know. How else would he know? But I really can't imagine that he would talk to Malfoy about something like that. Maybe he just knows Malfoy well enough that he just could be sure that it wasn't him."

"That, or he secretly reads the _Quibbler_, and that's how he knew that that particular ad only existed in that one sample."

"I just can't imagine," said Harry. "And who wrote Malfoy's answer?" Something about the whole affair was fishy, but he couldn't figure out what it was.

"OH MY GOD!" Hermione screeched all of a sudden and started frantically pulling at her hair with both hands.

"Now she's completely gone bonkers," said Ron, but Hermione just cast a panic-stricken look at the ground and back into the passage, as if she were searching for something.

"It's gone. Oh God, it's gone."

"What's gone?" asked Ron.

"My hairpin. It's gone!"

Ron and Harry exchanged an uncomprehending look. "So what?"

"We have to go back and get it," Hermione said fearfully.

Harry tried to calm her down. "It's just a hairpin, Hermione. I'll buy you a new one."

"You don't get it, do you? I still had it when we were hiding under the table. I bet I lost it when my hair got caught on the table leg."

Harry and Ron's still clueless expressions seemed to just add to her aggravation.

"Snape is going to find it!"

"But that doesn't matter, unless you wrote your name down on it somewhere," said Ron, and suddenly all color drained from his face. "You didn't, did you?"

"Of course not, Ron, but if even Muggles can determine the identity of a person from a single strand of hair, what do you think a Potions master can do?"

Finally, Harry understood her panicky reaction. "Oh crap."

"Muggles can really do that?" Ron asked in astonishment.

"Ron, stay on topic," Hermione barked at him.

"Sorry," Ron said in a small voice. "So what should we do? I'm sure he will have found it before we can make it back to the pub. He'll go back and check out that table for certain. Snape is nothing if not thorough if he's after something."

"For now, we'll go back to castle and wait for him there. If we have to, we'll steal back the hairpin before he can do anything with it," Harry said, with much more self-confidence than he felt at the moment.

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Translated by Cecelle

Betaed by Lucidity

As usual you find the reviewer's responses in my profile:-)


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4:_

.-.-.-.

When they finally stood in the halls of Hogwarts again, they decided to first go back to Gryffindor Tower and retrieve the Marauder's Map. With a little bit of luck, they could head off Snape and relieve him of the hairpin before he even reached his quarters. That would most decidedly be easier than to try and burgle his rooms later.

It was the exact 'how' of the plan that was causing Harry serious worries.

Their path led them past the entrance hall, and for the first time in ages luck seemed to be on their side as they heard the entrance gates open with a squeak. Someone strode by with such brisk, angry steps that the sound of his boots echoed loudly off the walls.

As if on cue, the three turned around and hurried towards the noise, all the while making absolutely certain that they were safely hidden under the Invisibility Cloak.

As bad luck would have it, they didn't catch up with Snape until the dungeons. They were so busy just trying to keep up (without the Invisibility Cloak slipping) that they couldn't even begin to think about how to relieve him of the hairpin, which most probably was hidden in his clenched right hand. Instead, they got to listen to Snape cussing a blue streak the whole way down - about ill-begotten Gryffindors and old fools which he _should_ have just let die of their heart attacks.

"But I _will_ find out who it was," he swore quietly, so angry that his face was contorted into a furious grimace. "Not that it isn't bloody obvious anyway. Those cursed Gryffindors. But this time, I have proof. The hairpin will betray them. Oh yes, this time the Headmaster will have to take me seriously. This time, _somebody_ will get expelled…"

Harry was slightly worried that Hermione would give them away – she had her fist pressed against her mouth as if she was trying to suppress a sob. He was _not _really worried about getting expelled; Dumbledore would surely not permit that – but that he would be in serious trouble was a given. And _that_ he would like to avoid, if at all possible. Not to mention that it would give him a certain satisfaction to yet again get back at Snape and snatch near-certain victory from his hands.

Finally, they came to an almost six-foot tall painting of a crimson-red, hissing and writhing firedrake, and Harry for a fleeting moment had the thought that they could follow Snape into the room unnoticed. It would be risky, but definitely their best chance.

That did not work out though. Snape simply hissed a short '_rigor mortis'_, strode through the open doorway as the painting swung out of the way, and Harry barely had time to see Snape lift his wand and give a wave before the doorway banged shut after him with a resounding thud.

For at least five minutes, not a single one of them dared to say a single word, too afraid that Snape might open the door again.

"Do you think that these are Snape's private rooms?" Ron finally whispered, breaking the petrified silence.

"He has the pin, oh God. He's going to find out that it is mine, and then I'm going to be expelled," whimpered Hermione.

"Of course you won't, Hermione," Ron tried to calm her down. "Dumbledore would have something to say on that matter."

Harry nodded in affirmation. "Ron is right, but we shouldn't give up on stealing it from before he has a chance to do anything. We know the password now."

"We could get the map and try to search his quarters tomorrow."

"Only if it isn't already too late by then," Hermione sighed.

"We don't have much of a choice," Harry said. "To search the room while Snape is in there is out of the question. Come, let's go and sleep on it."

His two friends nodded unhappily, and together they turned around and were just about to go back down the passage when behind them, the door to Snape's quarters opened again. Snape, with his usual commanding stride, stepped out and marched down the corridor in the direction of the entrance hall. At least they _assumed_ that it was Snape, because neither his face nor any other part of his skin showed from beneath the billowing cloak and the hood, which was pulled down far over his face. All that they could make out was a short flash of the bone-pale material of a Death Eater's mask, and something long and thin – a strangely-held magic wand? – which bunched out the robe in the back.

Harry and his friends stood stiff as boards, pressing their bodies against the wall to get out of Snape's way. He didn't even slow down as he passed them and disappeared around a bend in the passage.

Harry could hardly believe his luck.

But then he was suddenly grabbed by the arm and dragged towards the back. "Hurry up, before it closes all the way," he heard Ron urging him on.

He turned around and saw that the painting was in the process of swinging back in front of the hole in the wall in creeping-slow motion.

Together, they hurried towards it and managed to barely squeeze through before it closed all the way.

"Good thinking, Ron," Hermione said admiringly. "This way, even the painting didn't see us."

Ron blushed immediately, and was just trying to duck out from under the Invisibility Cloak when Harry held him back. "Wait. First we should make sure that we are really alone."

Ron nodded and arranged the cloak back around himself again.

Harry looked around the room in which they were standing. He wasn't sure what he had expected of Snape's private rooms, but this room was rather average. As in most sitting rooms at Hogwarts, a large fireplace graced the wall of the room. On the mantle above it there was a pot-bellied stone vase, probably full of Floo Powder.

Around a round, brightly polished three-legged wooden table in the middle of the large room stood an antique sofa and a single, matching chair. Both had armrests carved from ebony and claw-shaped, carved feet. In any case, the bright colours of the upholstery and the two small accent pillows at each end stood in stark contrast to Snape's character.

Against the left wall stood a bookshelf, with the spines of thick, old books lined up in a row next to each other, and on the opposite wall stood a massive wooden writing desk with two drawers; a single inkwell along with a lonely quill rested on top.

Next to it, a non-descript door led out of the room.

"I don't believe that there's anybody here," Ron said quietly. "It's totally silent."

Harry had to agree with him, but when dealing with Snape, it was better to be safe than sorry. One should never underestimate the man.

"Let's check in the other room first," he whispered, and moved, his friends in tow, towards the door.

Carefully, he opened it and peered inside.

It was Snape's bedroom. An emerald green, heavy velvet bedspread, matching the curtains, covered the huge canopy bed in the middle of the room. It, together with a massive wardrobe, filled almost the entire room, and only left space for a comparatively tiny nightstand with a sconce on top.

Yet another door led out of this room, and through a half-opened passage Harry could just make out part of a marble sink.

"You were right, Ron. There's no one here," said Harry.

With a relieved sigh, Ron scooted out from under the Invisibility Cloak. "That thing is slowly but surely getting too small for all of us," he said.

"Or we're getting too big," answered Harry with a grin. But Ron was right. It was by now anything but comfortable when all three of them had to hide under the cloak. Especially if they had to move under it.

Hermione slid out from under the cloak as well and with furrowed brow took a few steps into the room. Harry folded the cloak up into a compact bundle and tucked it under his arm before following Hermione.

"I would never have thought that Snape lives like this," Ron said with a quiet whistle through his teeth. "It looks almost human in here."

"What did you expect, Ron? A casket and black candles?" asked Harry.

"Something along that line, yes."

Hermione just shook her head and disappeared into the room that apparently was the bathroom. When she came out, the furrows on her brow were even deeper. "That is odd," she whispered to herself.

Harry was just going to ask her what she meant by that when Ron spoke up first. "Shouldn't we be looking for the hairpin and then get out of here? I mean, we don't have the map with us, so we have no way of telling when Snape will come back."

Hermione waved him off, even if her thoughts obviously were elsewhere at the same time. "He left the house as a Death Eater. Surely, he is going to a meeting with Voldemort to spy on him. I doubt he'll be back that quickly."

Harry was asking himself, which was more typical – Ron's slight grimace when Hermione actually dared to speak Voldemort's name, or Hermione's unshakable faith that Snape was on their side. "Still, we should look for the hairpin first. Hopefully Snape didn't take it with him," he said instead, and ignored Hermione's alarmed face. "I have an idea. Come on."

He first went back into the main room and waited for the others. Then he pulled out his wand and called out "_Accio Hairpin_!" For just a fraction of a second the thought occurred to him that he should have been more precise, but at the same time he figured that Snape would scarcely have other hairpins than Hermione's lying around.

And indeed, something rattled around in the top drawer of the desk before it slid open a crack with a creaking noise, and Hermione's hairpin came floating out and flew into Harry's outstretched hand.

"Hah – there we have it! Was easier than I thought." Triumphantly, he held the hairpin out to Hermione, who took it with a short thanks, stuffed it in her pocket, and looked around with a worried expression.

"What's up, Hermione? We have the pin. Why still the long face?"

"Aren't you noticing anything strange here?" she asked, and made a gesture indicating the whole room.

Harry and Ron exchanged an uncomprehending glance.

"Nope," Ron said.

"Okay, it doesn't look very much like Snape here, but otherwise…" Harry added.

Hermione shook her head again and walked over to Snape's desk. She first examined the half-open drawer, and then pulled open the second one and cast a look inside. Ron and Harry followed her. "Here, too," she murmured to herself. "That is weird."

"What's wrong?" asked Ron.

Hermione pointed to the opened drawer. "Look for yourself."

Harry and Ron looked into the indicated drawer. Inside, there was a closed bottle of ink and a small stack of parchments.

"What's so funny about writing implements?" asked Ron, expressing Harry's sentiments exactly.

"It isn't the writing implements in and of themselves," answered Hermione. Whatever it was that was unsettling her seemed to rob her of her composure far enough to temporarily forget her usual schoolmarmish tone of voice. "It's the fact that that is all that is here. Together with the letter opener in the other drawer. And take a look at the rest of the rooms. No open book, no pillow out of place. The bed and the nightstand look as if they've never been used. It's like a museum in here."

"Maybe Snape is just compulsively orderly?" Harry suggested.

"And what about the missing light source by the desk and on the table in the living room? Why are there no shoes lying around anywhere? There are books on the bookshelves, but no sign that they are being read at all. Why is there nothing personal in the bathroom, only the bare necessities? No bath towels, not even anything like a simple bar of soap?

"What, _that _is not exactly surprising," Ron interjected.

"What exactly are you trying to say, Hermione?" asked Harry.

"I don't know either, but it almost looks as if these rooms were nothing but a smokescreen."

"A smokescreen for what?"

"I don't know, Ron," Hermione said thoughtfully.

Before Harry or Ron could say anything, she went once again to the door that led into the bedroom.

"Where are you going, Hermione?" said Harry, but followed her hurriedly, together with Ron.

Hermione again stepped into the bedroom, walked over to the wardrobe, and without hesitation yanked open the two wing doors.

Harry cast a glance at the robes inside, neatly hung on hangers. He recognized most of the clothing (with only one or two exceptions) as school robes. On the shelves lay white undershirts, grey nightgowns and underwear. On the floor of the wardrobe stood two pairs of shoes, neatly lined up, directly in front of a few smallish, corked bottles, and a worn, folded up robe.

"That is the robe that he was wearing a while ago," Harry pointed out.

"What are those bottles?" asked Ron.

Hermione took out one of the opaque brown bottles and removed the cork. She peered inside, and then quickly sniffed it. "Cabbage smell," she said hoarsely.

Ron's eyes grew large, and Harry held his breath. They all knew what the cabbage smell indicated. "Polyjuice Potion," he choked out.

"That can't be," said Ron. "That makes no sense whatsoever."

"But it does," Hermione answered downcast. "Somebody is passing himself off as Professor Snape. Like Barty Crouch Jr. back then."

"But we saw him on the Marauder's Map when we slipped Malfoy the _Quibbler_. The map never lies," Ron disagreed.

"That isn't quite true," said Harry. "We saw Draco's name, but when Snape showed up we didn't look at the map any more. It must have already not been Snape then, but someone who pretended to be him. Judging by the room and the sparse clothing, this must have been going on for quite a while. Voldemort has placed a spy here again, and in exactly the same way as a year ago."

"But surely Dumbledore would notice something like that, especially if the fake Professor Snape only pretends to live here."

"He didn't notice anything about Quirrel, and overlooked Barty Crouch as well. Dumbledore would scarcely expect Voldemort to use the same trick twice, and the counterfeit Snape is a whole lot more subtle about taking the potion. It could be that even last year it wasn't the real Snape. Voldemort wants a spy at Hogwarts." Suddenly a terrible thought occurred to Harry. "The Order. Snape could tell them where the headquarters are."

"No he can't, not unless he is the Secret Keeper. But he could report on any plans that Dumbledore and the Order make," said Hermione.

"So then, where is the real Snape?" asked Ron.

"Captured by Voldemort," Harry said with determination. "He must have been revealed as a spy. Either they are keeping him a prisoner, or he was killed a long time ago."

"We have to do something," said Hermione.

"Yes," Ron agreed with her. "Dumbledore and the Order are in danger."

"Besides that, we have to try and rescue the real Professor Snape, if he is still alive," Hermione added.

Judging by Ron's face, he didn't consider this quite as urgent, and Harry could empathize with that feeling, at least in part, even if it did make him feel slightly guilty.

.-.-.-

My greatest thanks to Cecelle for the wonderful translation and to Lucidity for her great job in betaing. I so much appreciate that you two still take time for me, even though you are so busy yourselves. **Bighugz**

As usual, you'll find all my review responses in my bio page


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter5:**

"Headmaster, please, you have to listen to us," Hermione urged.

They had spent a full half an hour in front of the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office reeling off the names of pretty much all the sweets that they knew until the Headmaster, alerted to their presence by whatever hidden alarm systems he employed, had met them at the foot of the stairs. He had first eyed them seriously, and then had asked what they were doing here so late, since at such a late hour they were supposed to be in their dormitories.

Harry ignored the new coolness Dumbledore was showing towards him. He had more important things to do. "The Order and all of Hogwarts are in danger, sir."

Dumbledore intently looked at them one after another, as if he could thus determine if their concern was really as important as they claimed. Finally, he nodded slowly, and gestured wordlessly for them to follow him.

Harry could barely rein himself in until they stood in Dumbledore's office.  
"Voldemort has a spy at Hogwarts." The words shot out of him.

Dumbledore looked at him questioningly. "And where did you obtain this information, Mister Potter? Did you have another vision?" A worried, but strangely suspicious expression appeared in the eyes of the old wizard.

Harry decided again to simply ignore the strange behaviour of the Headmaster for the moment. "No, Sir. But we have found out that someone has kidnapped Snape, and assumed his role with Polyjuice Potion."

For an instant, something like concern darted across Dumbledore's face, but was immediately replaced with suspicion. "That is _Professor_ Snape, Mister Potter. And how did you arrive at this conclusion?"

Dumbledore didn't believe them, Harry suddenly realized. What if they couldn't persuade him? Or even worse, what if Dumbledore didn't believe them and then had a talk with the fake Snape about it? Then they would be in mortal danger. Even more than simply with a spy on the loose at Hogwarts. If he figured out that he had been uncovered, he would try to get them out of the way. There was nothing for it – he would have to tell Dumbledore everything.

Hermione seemed to have arrived at the same conclusion. "We were trying to play a prank on Draco," she started.

Ron added to her explanation. "A few things went wrong, and to make a long story short, Snape…excuse me, _Professor _Snape, found a piece of evidence that would have incriminated us, and we were trying to get it back."

"We snuck into his quarters to get it back, and found a few bottles of Polyjuice Potion, as well as signs that his rooms seem to be seldomly used," Harry finished out the story.

"We have to rescue the real professor, Headmaster," begged Hermione.

Harry inwardly thanked her. If they managed to shift attention from their transgression to Snape's fate, then Dumbledore couldn't really punish them. Indeed, he had often before turned a blind eye, and if their rule-breaking saved the day, he had even awarded them house points for that.

Dumbledore gazed at them a long time, and calmly stroked his beard. "Those are pretty serious accusations."

"But we have proof. The Polyjuice Potion, and the unused rooms…" Hermione shot back.

Dumbledore interrupted her with a lifted hand and an amused smile. "I don't mean to question your observations, child. Even if the way you obtained them is not exactly praiseworthy, and I hope that illegally entering a teacher's quarters is not something that will happen again." He firmly looked at them over the top of his glasses. "Still, you have uncovered some important points. I will immediately deal with this, I promise you."

"If we can help somehow –" The words escaped Harry before he could stop himself. He was completely fed up with always being left in the dark. This was much too important.

Dumbledore gave him a friendly smile. "I thank you, and you, too," he said as he turned to Hermione and Ron, "very much for your help. But for now, just go to sleep. It is quite late. Then tomorrow, after lessons, we can talk about everything."

This at least partially placated Harry. It seemed like Dumbledore didn't intend to keep them out of everything any longer. He exchanged a sort-of satisfied look with his friends, and got up to leave the Headmaster's office.

Harry had barely taken two steps when he heard Dumbledore's voice from behind him. "_Obliviate_!"

.-.-.-.

Dumbledore had spent the better part of a sleepless night in Snape's dungeon. It was seven o'clock in the morning before the painting of the crimson firedrake finally swung out, and a figure, wrapped in a black-hooded cloak, entered.

The new arrival suddenly stopped as he became aware that he was not alone, and his wand shot up so rapidly that it seemed as if its owner had to always be prepared for an attack.

"The wand will not be necessary," Dumbledore said calmly. "Come, sit down. We have to talk."

The hand with the wand sank down, and its owner entered the room and sat down hesitantly on the sofa, across from Dumbledore. With further hesitation and a deep sigh he pushed back his hood and revealed silver-blonde hair, gray eyes, and a pointed face. He threw a skeptical glance at the headmaster, before he pulled his customary cane out of the deep folds of the robe and leaned it against the sofa next to himself.

"I don't have much time, Headmaster. I still have to change. The first hour of classes is about to begin."

Dumbledore nodded. "I know, but something happened. We definitely will have to secure your rooms a lot better. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger managed to break into your quarters. They noticed that they are barely being used, and they found the Polyjuice Potion."

Dumbledore had barely finished speaking when Malfoy jumped up. "Those little maggots. I knew that they were behind the insulting advertisement. I will have them pay for that." He lifted a fist, barely managing to suppress the anger rising within him. "They wanted to steal the hairpin back, right? I _knew_ that it had to be Granger's. We have to silence those three, or I am finished," he said angrily.

Dumbledore held up his hand in a soothing manner and stood up as well. "Please calm down. I already took care of it. They remember nothing in connection with this incident."

Malfoy stared at him a moment, and then let himself fall back on the sofa with a short, barking laugh.

Dumbledore lifted an eyebrow questioningly.

"I never thought I would see the day when the great Albus Dumbledore Obliviates a student, especially his beloved Harry Potter. Pretty hypocritical, don't you think, Headmaster? Especially since you usually reject such ideas when I am the one suggesting them."

Dumbledore's eyes lost their friendliness and took on a tortured expression. "That is unfair, and you know it," the headmaster reproached him quietly. "This particular situation is singularly more important than trivial classroom matters. That you are able to keep your position is vitally important for the war effort."

These words caused Malfoy to grow silent, and he distractedly fingered a strand of his hair as it slowly grew shorter and darker.

"The Polyjuice Potion is starting to lose effect," Dumbledore noticed, more to break the uncomfortable silence in the room than to comment on the obvious.

"Exactly according to plan. I planned everything perfectly," murmured the man, whose facial features, hands, and body slowly molded back into those of Severus Snape. "In this game, I am leaving nothing to chance. You should know that, Headmaster."

Even the voice had returned to Snape's unmistakable baritone timbre, but it suddenly sounded tired and exhausted.

With compassion, the old wizard looked at the man, who, shoulders drooping, sat bent forward on the sofa.

He walked around the small table and sat down next to Snape. "Are you having problems putting on an act for Narcissa, Severus?"

Snape shook his head and curled his lip disdainfully. "Narcissa is too wrapped up in herself and too used to Lucius being out all day with business partners to notice anything. As long as the money flows and Lucius pays her enough attention when he _is_ home, she doesn't ask what he is up to the rest of the days, or sometimes even the nights.

"It also helped enormously that with the aid of the Time Turner both my personas can be in the same place at the same time. Nobody is suspecting anything. As long as the Unspeakables provide cover and I have free hand to break the occasional rule, and especially as long as I keep being careful, nobody _will_ suspect anything."

"Then what is it that is distressing you?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

For a moment, Snape was silent again before he quietly said, "I am afraid that I am slowly losing track of where I end and Malfoy begins. I am forced to always exactly impersonate him. And Malfoy would never betray the Dark Lord."

"But Severus Snape would. Severus, please look at me."

The dark-haired man lifted his head and met the gaze of the old wizard.

"I understand that under the circumstances you might be forced to commit terrible deeds. But so are our liaisons in the Ministry. You would be acquitted of those deeds in a court of law, you know that."

"I am not worried about a prosecution under the law, Headmaster, you know that. And that you keep encouraging me in this isn't helping. What if the Dark Lord ever gets his hands on a student? I don't know if I will be able to risk losing my cover to help him. It is as you have said: This game is big, bigger even than the life of someone you are sworn to protect. I play this dangerous game by your orders, and I have to play to the best of my ability. I am doing the best I can - be it to gather information, to not endanger my cover, or to make Potter aware of the dangers of the situation and prepare him for the inevitable battle…and you are quite aware of my own opinion on that subject," Snape growled.

The headmaster sighed tiredly. "I know, Severus. I don't like it either, but Harry happens to be our only chance, and even if it doesn't look like it at the moment, we are at war. Young Diggory wasn't the first innocent victim. Many of the children under our protection are in danger, and, if we can't make Harry understand that when it is time, there will be many more victims. I don't like what we are doing here, and it is difficult to find the right direction and make sure that the price of victory doesn't exceed what we are willing to pay." He drew his eyebrows together thoughtfully. "To not yield to the temptation to become like our enemy or to fight with his weapons - it isn't always easy."

"That exactly is my problem, Headmaster. I haven't been able to see that line clearly for a long time. In this case, does the end really justify the means? We both know that I will even kill if the Dark Lord should demand it, only to keep my cover."

"But what do you fear more, Severus? That you might have to kill, or that you might like it?"

Snape didn't seem to have an answer for that, either that, or he was afraid to speak the truth. "What if I lose my conviction one day? What if the allure of evil becomes too strong? I am not a nice man. Never was. I_ like_ to have power over others," he finally said.

Dumbledore laid a fatherly hand on his shoulders. "As long as you still have these thoughts, you will always be able to find yourself again. I know that I am expecting much of you, and it saddens me that we have no other choice."

"The risk is too high, Headmaster." Snape pleadingly looked up at the old wizard. "Malfoy has too much power. I find myself liking this power, and the allure of the Darkness. I like it much more than I should."

Dumbledore looked regretfully into his eyes. "Malfoy is in the right position. It is exactly this influence that he yields both in society and in the Dark Lord's company that makes his position so valuable. And except for a few trustworthy Unspeakables and the two of us, no one knows that the real Malfoy has been in Azkaban all this time."

Snape balled his fists on his lap and lowered his eyes. "I just can't do it any more. Any other Death Eater would be acceptable, but not Malfoy. Even if we put aside the fact that he is strongly engaged socially and has a family, and that between his and my own life I barely have time to relax, even with the Time Turner, there is the still the matter of power. Even when I have a few hours of peace and quiet, the doubts and thoughts will not let me go, and I am barely able to get any sleep."

It was silent for a moment, and then Dumbledore sighed. "All right. Severus. I always told you that it was your choice. You have done so much for us already, and I trust you. We'll get rid of Malfoy."

Relieved, Snape looked him in the eye again. "Please believe me that I would not ask for this if I thought I would be able to safely keep on playing Malfoy's part."

Dumbledore just smiled. "I know that, my boy." He stood up again. "I will immediately contact my allies among the Unspeakables. At the next opportunity, they will 'officially' arrest Malfoy. Then we can switch your identity to another Death Eater who isn't in the spotlight so much."

"Thank you, Headmaster," Snape said, relief in his voice. "I am not going to disappoint you in my new role; that, I promise you."

Once more Dumbledore patted Snape's shoulder. "_I_ have to thank_ you, _Severus,for everything you are putting yourself through for our sake. I, and the whole side of the light."

And with those words, he left Snape so that he could change clothes for his first Potions class.

.-.-.-.-.-.

Fin

So, that was it. The rest of this fic and my last update before HbP. I'm so exited! Thanks to all who reviewed, to Cecelle, for translating the fic and to Lucidity for her wonderful job as a beta. Also thanks to all those who reviewed:-)

Celi, Silverthreads, Oya, Teldra, Severinus, AccioSeverus, darkdancer, duj, Pervert Bitch, lucidity, Phinea Rogue


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